Day 6,(Hero) I’ll Fly

This Poem received a lot of positive feedback so Thank you for all the likes and comments ..I’m feeling the love

From One Artist to Another thank you all ,blogging World means so much…

For https://mutafariqkhayalat.wordpress.com/ who invited me to do this .I’m not good at these kinds of things such as:links and tech savvy stuff..  Thank you

When I grow up I’ll fly…

with silver cufflinks

chained to the free

engaged for their own sacred prosperity.

When I grow up no need for money man against man

One toward the penny the other toward the land

Rigid cold,freezing

Broken legs ,so learned to fly

Taking to the bitter dirt

I moved sluggishly on my stubby joints

Parting the mud between

the soul and body

when I grow up

I’ll fly  ….

Thanks everyone the most comments on this poem.I’ll Fly, so much love…

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Homage to My Hips by Lucille Clifton

Poetry PotLuck: I Love Lucille Clifton Homage to her Hips even though I am small frame I see my hips as magic too, and her words lift me…  the power in a woman…  Her Poem moves me to have that Self love talk in the Mirror  hey “My life loves me”…

Homage to My Hips
BY LUCILLE CLIFTON
these hips are big hips
they need space to
move around in.
they don’t fit into little
petty places. these hips
are free hips.
they don’t like to be held back.
these hips have never been enslaved,
they go where they want to go
they do what they want to do.
these hips are mighty hips.
these hips are magic hips.
i have known them
to put a spell on a man and
spin him like a top!

Lucille Clifton, “homage to my hips” from Good Woman. Copyright © 1987 by Lucille Clifton. Reprinted with the permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/179615

Space

Dear clutter, it’s been swell. Living underneath the piles of flimsy wash-cloths and moldy shelves.

I’ve tried, and you’ve lied, about the mess nobody makes.It takes courage to thoroughly clean,

Beneath basements and baseboards.

Look what we’ve become!

Shabby and raggedy,always nagging bout the times when you was as fine as oatmeal.

Please.

I’m not asking.Still my space..

Sisters

She took her mind out for a short walk.Along the way,the left brain said to the right.

“They divided us and now we must work together!”

The shadows we boxed ,longing for stillness.Fragmented cavities of uncertainty.

Turning onto Cherry street; ant piles shaped the X sign on the sidewalk.

Little dirty children we use to be.Her spirit whistled like the wind.Her body found new land with skin and algae.Under holy waters she bathed daily.

Erupted tides of new beginnings.

Poet Krissy Mosley